


Synth

by AlaskaExists



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4, Original Work
Genre: Androids, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fallout (Video Games) - Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Original work - Freeform, Synths, institute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-05-16 18:54:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14816969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaskaExists/pseuds/AlaskaExists
Summary: Inside the Institue Synths are becoming closer and closer to passing for human. Gen 3 synths are indistingushable from humans, made from biological resources and programmed to be "adults," these synths are treated as slaves, made to work and succumb to experimenation at the hands of the humans. However, Gen 3 Synths are becoming Awakened to their human emotions and the unfairness of their inhumane treatment. This is their story.





	1. SYNTH DESIGNATION R3-29 (Rosie)

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I have been wanting to work on for awhile and am finally getting around to it. There will be multiple chapters with different character POVs as the story of the how these Synths learn and live in the Institue. Some chapters will have more mature themes and I'll leave a warning in the notes at the beginning. Let me know what you think and thanks for reading :)

“Two more hours, Rosie,” a voice whispers so quietly it's almost drowned out by the soft sound of the air filtration system. My breath catches at his quiet boldness, and it takes all my attention to keep my features calmly distant and indifferent. All my senses seem to heighten when Daniel’s around, a strange phenomenon that I can’t entirely explain. A thrill races down my spine and my fingers tingle as I take a deep breath through my nose. Daniel passes by in a second, and I don’t dare look towards him, but the smell of salt and earth lingers. He must have been stationed in the tunnels again.

I continue inputting data like my body wasn’t just sent into overdrive. Like I’m the unfeeling, inhuman, synth they expect me to be. I tell my heart rate to slow, though I’m pretty sure I’m not being monitored currently. You never know when someone will decide to pull medical data from you. Any anomaly could cause you to wind up in the hospital wing, not for treatment, so much as torture. We are lab rats with the bodies and functioning power of organic humans. What more could a scientist ask for?

Once I feel relatively normal, I let my mind wander into what I call the “nowhere place.” I’m not sure if it’s something unique to synths or if humans have this ability too, but most of us are able to sort of check out of reality. I know I’ll drive myself crazy staring at the tiny clock numbers on the screen in front of me, so I go on autopilot. My mind becomes a bit fuzzy and distant, but I’m still inputting and processing data, cataloging numbers into the computer in front of me like the machine I’ve always been told I am. I know I should be actively paying attention as any data could be useful to us synths, but I can’t give it my full attention when in two hours I’ll have the opportunity to be with Daniel. Besides, I’m confident enough in my recall and processing abilities that I think I’d notice anything significant.

Lost in this strange infinite space, time passing has less meaning, and before I know it, I hear a shrill bell from the PA system signaling the end of the day shift. Mechanically, I stand up keeping my movements slow and methodical, though no one is watching. The humans are all sighing, worn out from the days work, but they smile when they start to pair off in groups. Complaining and chatting about their day, speculating what’s for dinner as they head toward the cafeteria, though 9 times out of 10 it’s a synthetic food block, engineered to contain the perfect balance of nutrients. Not engineered for taste or satisfaction, it’s still better than starving and is a way to keep the rather large population of humans and synths in the Institute healthy and energized. Synths are always served synthetic food, though allegedly the humans, especially the higher ups get delicacies from the garden or the mysterious outside. Or I think it comes from outside, even though everyone is told the outside is a desolate, lawless, wasteland. There’s not supposed to be anything left worth saving. Recently, I’m not sure what to believe.

Since my “Awakening” it’s harder to sort out my thoughts and figure out what is right and what I’ve been programmed to believe is right. Daniel believes we are more than our programming and we have autonomy. That we can figure out the truth between the lies, that were more than the chip in our brains and the slaves of the Institue. I’m not sure if he’s right, but by the way, all this new information has made me feel I want to believe him. Honestly, I’m not sure if I care about what’s true or not. All I care about is him and how my body and brain respond to his presence, to the feel of him next to me. I don’t understand the sensation, but I want to be next to him all the time.

I don’t really know when it started. These “feelings” as Daniel and the other Awakened Synths say. It’s like I was living my life in a foggy glass bubble and suddenly the fog cleared, and I could see what was around me. Then as I began reaching out, testing my body, the feel of my hand in another living hand, the sight of the humans and other synths. Noticing body language, social interaction, the smells of the Institute, the taste of synthetic food in my mouth, the feel of cool metal in my hands, my fingers against a keyboard. Everything became overpowering and the bubble burst, freeing me from the strange half-life I was living. I noticed my heartbeat, my breathing, and I knew things I didn’t know how I knew. Information that seemed to just show up in my brain, but had likely always been there. Daniel referred to it as the “innate sense of being human.” It was the ability to learn and the programming of being an “adult” that was already in place the moment we were created. It was like I was a child and adult all at once. I understood social norms but had no real context. I began to understand the oppression and stigma attached to being a synth but was learning the idea of freedom, of the wastes outside, as my mind processed all I’d ever heard and seen.

It was and still is, overwhelming, but it’s been a few months now (Daniel says it’s important to mark time in this place, or we’ll lose our sense of self), and I’m starting to get a handle on things. I’ve been hanging out with the synths close to Daniel and have been slowly picking up their knowledge. The biggest thing is how to act when we aren’t alone. Calm, submissive, and distant. Nothing can faze a robot so nothing should faze a synth, even a synth that’s indistinguishable from the humans themselves.

My thoughts are so distracting that I don’t realize I’ve already gone through the food line and need to find a place in the cafeteria to sit. I curse myself for not paying closer attention. Daniel says it’s important to be aware at all times, even when it’s hard. Getting complacent leads to silly mistakes that can have dire consequences. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I know his biggest concern is being Reset. A fate worse than death, losing yourself while still alive.

I head to the Synth area and spot Daniel immediately. He doesn’t look up from his tray. The perfect picture of detachment, but I can see the sharpness in his eyes that nothing escapes his notice. I take a seat next to him. Purposely sitting a bit too close and letting my arm brush his as I sit. He nudges my shoulder with the slightest move, and I catch the side of his mouth quirk slightly. I feel heat flood my cheeks, and I pray I am not blushing. My heart soars at his response, and I can’t entirely repress the smile that takes over my face at his acknowledgment. I keep my head down hoping no one will notice my unusual response. Luckily everything has been relatively quiet lately, so everyone has a sense of complacency that has allowed us to a small bit of freedom.

Daniel’s foot pushes against mine under the table, a gentle nudge that I understand from the months I’ve spent with him. Calm down, Rosie, I can hear his voice saying in my head. I turn my focus to my food, a strange yellow chunk of nutrients. I stick my fork into, noting that it seems a bit tougher than usual. Typically, the synthetic food is soft, something easy to chew and digest, but occasionally a batch doesn’t turn out quite right, and this food is given to the synths. I tear a piece off and pop it into my mouth. It’s a bit spongy and chewy, a sign that something is slightly off in this batch, but it still has a strange combination of sweet and savory, that isn’t entirely off-putting.

A few more synths join us, and I watch the silent conversations that pass between them and Daniel. Though I feel a bit left out since I can’t quite decipher their silent language, I trust them enough to let me know when we all meet up later. Daniel shifts in his seat slightly, and I take the opportunity to study him. Dark hair curling at the ends fall over his forehead, the sharp lines of his jaw, the faint shadow of a dimple in his cheek, his full lips and pointed nose. I wonder if when they created him, they meant to make him so utterly beautiful. He feels the weight of my stare and his eyes turn to me. He doesn’t turn his head, but the weight of his stare still takes my breath. Something is burning in his eyes, an emotion that I don’t understand, but it makes me want to turn away and pull him towards me at the same time.

“Finish eating, Rosie. I’ll see you upstairs,” his voice is soft, deep and melodic. I can tell he’s teasing me a bit. He tells me I’m to easy to read, that my emotions are always right on the surface, bubbling over into the space around me. I know that worries him, that I should be more concerned for my own safety, but nothing matters when I look at him. Nothing matters when I’m surrounded by people just like me, and I’m learning about a world I couldn’t have imagined even if I tried. This is what it means to be alive. That’s what I think anyway.


	2. SYNTH DESIGNATION F3-46 (46)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: references to self harm, depression, suicidal ideation

SYNTH DESIGNATION F3-46 (46)

I don’t know how long I’ve been in the Institute. Unlike the other Gen 3 synths who minds wander the paths of humanity mine seems stuck somewhere close to a robot. Other synths I’ve “grown” with for years have moved on to others, giving each other names and birthdays and touching each other in the familiar casual ways I’ve seen the humans of the institute touch. They joke and laugh their voices changing from their flat synth voices of work to something fuller, richer, more…human. I wonder what that’s like sometimes. To feel, to interact like that. It’s strange to feel more like a robot than others when synthetic beings literally surround you.

“F3-46, report to the Biological Science wing.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply to the voice without looking. Keeping my voice flat. I’m not sure my “actual” voice is much different. Whoever was speaking doesn’t respond, but I know they heard me and expected me to follow without question. Synths are slaves, and everyone knows it.

I make it to the biological science wing. The synthetic Silver-backed gorilla’s are screeching behind the glass wall. It’s early, I think. Time to feed them. I watch an Institute scientist throw some fruits into the cage. The gorilla’s rejoice. They grab the fruit happily; I watch the sizeable male break a melon in half as easily as cracking an egg, handing a piece to his alpha female counterpart. I watch the animals a lot, the same way I watch the humans and the synths. I think if I’m made for anything it’s observation. I notice things; no one ever notices me. I catalog details and store them away for later, connect things about behavior and life and existence during the repetitive work hours and the nights I can’t sleep. It’s the only thing that’s kept me going this long. Watching. I wonder if I’ll ever fit into the dynamic of social community. Even the synthetic gorillas exhibit traditional social community structures. Isolation drives them mad. I know because I’ve seen it. The same happens to people too, even Gen 3 synths. It’s not pretty. I wonder if isolation would drive me crazy or if I’m closer to the second Gen synths, more robot than human. Always waiting for a code, told how to feel, how to react. I wonder how I can feel so empty and robotic, but still be entirely miserable.

I notice a tray of scalpels to my left as I methodically mop the floor. No one is paying attention to me. Some of the scientists have settled in the back corner of the lab, huddled around a computer. I can tell by their laughing and whispering that they are watching someone play a game and not doing work. A few other older humans seem to be typing up reports, and one or two are anxiously talking about presenting their new research ideas to Father. I could grab a knife, and no one would notice. I think of my synth brothers and sisters, desperately wanting the opportunity to be free. The whispers of something called the Railroad that’s allegedly “freeing” synths and fighting back against the Institute. I think of the nights I’ve spend huddled with them in tiny rooms or working hard labor for days in the dark. They fantasize about killing their masters. About stealing the gun from a patroller or the arm of an old synth and blasting these humans apart as casually as they do to us. I remember a particularly brutal, yet imaginative, death sequence about stealing a scalpel and plunging it in the neck of one of the lead scientist. The shock on his face as his perfect little creation turned on him. Plunging the knife in his eye next, stabbing him between the ribs and watching as he bled out slowly while metal entered and exited his flesh.

The knives are in front of me now. So accessible by these too trusting fools that think we are too dumb or too scared to try and fight. To some extent they are right, but still it’s a bit insulting they think so little of us. Lucky for them it’s just me here, and unlike my brethren, I fantasize about stealing the knife and plunging it into my own neck.


	3. SYNTH DESIGNATION A2-11 (Lilith)

SYNTH DESIGNATION A2-11 (Lilith)

“You’re going to destroy her, you know.”

“Well, good to see you too Lil. How was your day?” Daniel asks, smiling as he stands up from the sofa.

His arms spread as he reaches out to hug me, I roll my eyes and sneer, but let him wrap around me anyway. He’s always so touchy, the exact opposite of me, but because he’s Daniel, the good twin, I allow it. Truthfully, I like it a little bit, but I’d never tell him that. My arms limply go around him, a caricature of a hug. He gives me a slight squeeze, always holding on a few seconds longer than I’m comfortable with. He laughs when he pulls away and sees the disgust on my face. I roll my eyes.

“Where have you been today? I didn’t see you this morning.” Daniel’s voice is light and airy. I guess he’s not going to acknowledge my earlier statement. I decide to humor him for a few moments.

“I ended up on maid duty in sector 3 today, a lot of cleaning rooms and doing laundry. Nothing exciting,” I say, mirroring his early tone. “You were in the tunnels today.” I didn’t see or hear anything about him being assigned there today, but I can just tell by the slight tension in his shoulders that he hides so well. That and the smell of the earth still clings to him, faintly, despite the intense decontamination shower he’d have already gone through.

“Only for half the day.”  
“Anything exciting happen?”  
Daniel snorts derisively, and shakes his head, taking a seat back on the couch. We both know the tunnels are awful. “It could have been worse I guess. I was able to give a few of the 3’s down there a couple short breaks when no one was around. And I snuck them a bit of clean water and food from lunch.”

“You’re getting bold, Golden Boy. You need to be careful.”  
“I was careful. I even distracted the 2’s and barely spoke to the 3’s. They were mostly new synths with a few mids scattered in. I don’t think they had been down there long, probably going to be moved soon.”  
He glanced away as he spoke, worry making a tiny crease appear on his brow, somehow it made him seem younger. I didn’t entirely agree with his optimistic assumption that the Gen 3’s would be moved from the tunnels so soon, but I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. Besides, sometimes you have to let people believe what they need too. Otherwise, nothing would get done and no one would sleep.

“So, about the newly Awake…” I start, changing the subject for him.  
“Right! They’re coming along really well, I think. I mean we're getting more and more information every day and making more connections. It’s just so-“

“Slow down. D6. You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” He’s standing up and nearly pacing the small space, hands pulling at his hair, eyes bright and wild. When Daniel’s passionate about something, he gets really intense. It’s like his body vibrates with the energy of it, the room taking on his emotion and sucking everyone in. It’s why so many synths respect him, but it drives me crazy. I find his optimism and passion draining more than contagious. Luckily calling him by his designation has momentarily stopped him in his tracks.

“Don’t call me that. You know I hate when you do that, Lil.”

“You’re moving to fast with R3. She’s too naive, she’s going to get herself killed or worse. She could get us all reset.”

“Her name is Rosie.” Daniel’s dark eyes go serious. “We were all new once, she’s a fast learner. I don’t see why you think it’s such a big deal.”

“She doesn’t know how to hide her emotions. You breathe in her direction, and she lights up like a supernova. She’s overly infatuated with you, and that’s dangerous. You need to send her to someone else.”

“When synths are first Awakened it’s common that they deeply connect with their enlightened peers, the phenomenon begins to dissipate to acceptable levels after-“

“Cut the bullshit, Danny. I didn’t ask for a lecture. You damn well know she’s different for you.”

“You’re right that she’s a bit naive. I don’t trust her with anyone else. She’ll learn, she’s smart, and she’s come so far in these last few months. Besides no ones noticed her, so there’s nothing to worry about.” There’s pain behind the cool logic in his voice. I’m fascinated and a bit envious at how easily he seems to connect to his emotions. How he can feel them yet control them. I push everything away, not trusting anyone, especially myself.

I sigh and plop onto the couch, preparing myself for what I’m about to tell him. I motion with my head for him to sit too. He complies, leaning into the opposite corner of the cushion and fanning his legs, so his feet are on my lap. I absent-mindedly trace patterns around his ankle, where a bit of his pale skin peeks out from the loose cuffs of his pants.

“They’re starting to notice her.” I continue staring at his feet when I speak. I feel all his muscles tense as I say the words.

“How much, Lilith?” His voice is purposefully calm.  
“Not much, but I heard some of the men from S3 talking about her. They don’t know her designation, but I know it’s her they’re talking about.” I shoot Daniel a look, silencing his questions and doubts. “They were businessmen, they must have come into the data room for something and seen her at work. Only a bit of talk of catching her during meal times, so their notice is limited. You know it’s just a matter of time though.”

Daniel’s quiet for a few minutes and I let him think, he’s not one to speak hastily. I feel some of the tension leave him as he makes up his mind. “That’s more reason why I should keep her close. I don’t trust anyone else with her. Like you said, she’s naive. I can’t risk her getting caught or getting radicalized by Cord and his gang. She’s new, she just needs guidance.”

“I guess if the humans are talking then Cord knows about her too. He’s been lying low for the past few days though. Or maybe just avoiding me.”

Daniel opens his mouth to speak, a wry twist to his lips, but he’s interrupted by the door sliding open.

“Oh, um sorry? Am I interrupting?” Rosie’s timid voice fills the room. I glance at her then back at Daniel’s feet on my lap when I look over at her again a faint blush appears across her cheeks beneath her freckles. She’s painfully cute. It’s disgusting.

“Not at all, come in,” Daniel exclaims, ever the gracious host. He pulls his legs from my lap and stands to greet her. He goes to hug her, as he did to me, as he does to everyone, but he’s glowing when he looks at her. Daniel's arms wrap around her, and she tentatively puts her arms around him. A moment passes before she leans into him, her whole body swooning into his. She’s so limp that he tightens his grip and practically supports her as she steadies herself. She’s way too trusting, and she obviously has no control.

I’ve seen Daniel with newly Awakened synths before, and he should be reprimanding her. Explaining how to control intense emotion, adjusting to physical touch, the difference between feeling freely with your synth brothers and sisters and keeping it all locked away from the Institute. Instead, he chuckles and keeps his arms tight around her. She probably doesn’t notice, but he lowers his head to hers, and I watch him breathe her in. She’s glowing like an atom bomb, her cheeks, and tips of her ears slightly pink under her golden brown skin. I don’t think she realizes how different Daniel acts around her, but I do, and I need to get out of the room before they irradiated me with their ridiculous emotions.

“Have some fucking respect for yourself, R3,” I sneer as I stand up. “Don’t forget your lessons, D6. You know better.” I catch Rosie’s wide-eyed confusion and Daniel’s angry glare as I exit the room before he can reprimand me. Their effortless happiness pisses me off. It also scares me a bit, because there’s no way it can last, and I’ve seen way too many synths implode.


End file.
